the shape of everything you need
by anamericanmarriage
Summary: Scenes from a porno. (Or something like that.)


_Sorry, Mom and Dad. Title is from "You Are Jeff" by Richard Siken._

* * *

This is what Brian had been missing.

Of course, Stewie tells him as much, all breathy and damply hot in his ear like some truly unholy hybrid of Marilyn Monroe and an Allen Ginsburg wet dream, but it bears silent repeating in the safety of his brain - or at least what's left of his brain after nearly all of it nearly literally melts out of the ear that Stewie hasn't decided to start kissing wetly.

"You could have had this years ago," Stewie continues. Brian doesn't have to look at his face to know that he's smirking, and he _can't_ look at his face because he abruptly feels on the edge of an orgasm already and looking Stewie in the eye would absolutely push him over that edge. "You could have had this if only you'd asked."

"I was afraid to," Brian confesses in a frog-croak of a voice that can't possibly sound sexy. "I'd never felt that way about..." He trails off, partly because even _he_ doesn't know what the end of that statement was supposed to be and partly because Stewie lays a hand on the soft pouch of his stomach, only a few inches from his cock.

"I know," he simpers, and the worst part of it is that he sounds genuinely sympathetic. "I know, Brian. But you don't have to be afraid. I've told you before that I'd take care of you, right?" He lets his hand fall a little lower, though it's still not quite touching his cock. "Let me take care of you."

"I'm - " Brian grinds his teeth together in tension and embarrassment. "I think I'm gonna come."

Stewie laughs; the sound isn't unkind, but it makes Brian flush in humiliation, anyway. "I haven't even touched your prick yet, Bry. How long has it been?" He hums a little in thought, the vibration of it against Brian's skin causing his eyes to flutter. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't need to know all the nitty-gritty details of the last barfly you spunked all over. You want me to take the edge off? See if you, even in your old age, can get hard for me again?"

"I'm not sure if I can," Brian pants. "God, Stewie, I'm so fucking sorry, it's just - "

Stewie shushes him. "It's fine. I've waited five years to get you into my bed. I can wait a little longer to ride your red rocket."

No, _this_ is the worst part, actually - not Stewie being sympathetic but Stewie somehow making even the unsexiest things sound positively sinful.

"I'm gonna come if you keep talking like that," Brian says. He feels so overwhelmed that he could cry. "Do you - fuck, do you want me to finish myself off?"

Stewie scoffs. "I think not! What did I just say?" He finally closes his hand around Brian's cock. "Come all over my hand, Brian. At least give me a taste."

Well, if Stewie insists. It takes two strokes before Brian is indeed coming all over his hand. He immediately slumps backward into the cool, soft embrace of Stewie's blankets and pillows, breathing so heavily that he feels like he's just completed a marathon.

"Eyes up here, mister!" Stewie snaps, and Brian cranes his neck just far up enough to see Stewie sucking his come off of his fingers. His cock twitches, which doesn't escape Stewie's attention.

"I think you underestimate yourself," Stewie says. "I think you can get hard for me again."

"I can't, Stewie," Brian pleads. "I'd love to, but I feel like I'm fucking dying."

Stewie beams. "I'll take that as a compliment!" he says, his cheerfulness incongruous with the way that he licks at the last few stripes of Brian's come. "You taste pretty good, Bry, I must admit. You could stand to drink a bit more water, though."

"...Thanks for the suggestion?"

"Don't mention it," Stewie says with a wave of his hand. "Besides," he adds casually, as if they're discussing the weather, "I prefer my lovers to have stronger-tasting come. You know, I've read so many times that you should incorporate more fruit into your diet for sweeter-tasting come, but I simply don't understand it. It's _come._ I'm not sucking a strawberry smoothie out of your prick, you know? I want to know that I'm sucking cock."

Brian's cock begins stirring in interest. That doesn't escape Stewie's attention, either.

"I should have figured that you'd be one for dirty talk," he says mildly. "Given that you're a _writer_ and all." Brian doesn't miss the way that Stewie says "writer," drenched in sarcasm, but he ignores it. Stewie did just essentially talk him into coming his brains out, after all. "Would you like to hear about the last man whose cock I sucked?"

"Not really," Brian says, and it's the truth. "I...don't like the thought of you with other men."

"Jealous, huh? I can't say that I mind." Stewie smiles warmly at him before that warmth sparks into a heat. "We can pretend yours is the first cock I've sucked, if you like. Does the thought of me being a blushing virgin do anything for you?"

Brian closes his eyes against a strange, inarticulate emotion that begins to climb up his throat. "No, it's not that. You're just..."

"I'll take your speechlessness as a compliment, too," Stewie says. "What do I have to do to get that pretty cock all nice and hard for me again, hm?" He wiggles down onto his stomach and, before Brian can even register what he's about to do, kisses it.

Brian hisses through his teeth. "Fuck, I'm still so sensitive," he most certainly does not whine.

Stewie takes the head into his mouth and suckles it, running his tongue over the slit. Brian tries very hard not to buck his hips up. He pulls off and smirks again. "Poor baby," he pouts, "does it hurt? Are you straddling that delicious line between pleasure and pain? I know how that feels." He sighs, and the feeling of it wafting over Brian's cock makes him grunt. "This certainly can't come as a surprise to you, but I'm quite insatiable. I can come dry as many as five times in a night, depending on how skilled my partner is." He pauses for a moment. "Or depending on which vibrator I use."

"You have sex toys?" Brian asks weakly.

"Of course I have sex toys!" Stewie cries. "I've exhausted every male pedophile in the greater Quahog area. I need some kind of stimulation when I can't get it out there." He cocks his head toward the window. "Besides, not to brag, but I seem to know my body better than anyone else. The men in this town tend to spend their load pretty quickly. Probably because they can't really get it anywhere else." He frowns. "But that makes me feel unattractive, so I try not to think about it."

"You're...attractive," Brian settles on.

"Wow, thanks," Stewie says flatly. "That felt like a confident and honest statement."

"I mean it," Brian tries again. "I'm not gay, but there's just something about you that's so...special."

Stewie ducks his head and smiles. "There's no need to butter me up, dear. I'll still let you fuck me. And no, of course you're not gay. It's perfectly heterosexual to let a man make you come twice."

"You've only made me come once," Brian gently teases him in lieu of arguing in defense of his heterosexuality. He'll save it for the inevitable panic attack that he'll have after he leaves the room.

"Patience," he reminds Brian. "I don't want to send you into cardiac arrest." He ducks his head again, this time to lick Brian's cock from its head to the base of its shaft. "I think I'd rather enjoy making you come with just my voice," he muses. "I'm always up for a challenge, not that I think it'd be particularly difficult."

"Honestly, at this point, it probably won't be," Brian admits. "I'm never going to be able to listen to you talk around the family now. All I'm going to hear is that posh voice telling me to come all over your hand."

"'Posh'?" Stewie asks, sounding delighted. "You get very sweet after you come, you know. I wouldn't have guessed it. You've always seemed like the love 'em and leave 'em type, no offense." He wiggles a little further up Brian's body, so that his head is laying on his chest. "I love you," he sighs happily.

"I...I love you, too, Stewie," Brian says, feeling a bit dizzy all of the sudden. "Fuck, I didn't think I'd ever tell you that in this context."

"I love you," Stewie says again. "I love you a truly unbearable amount, and I want to make you come again." He snuggles a little deeper into Brian. "Dogs love humping, right? It's my understanding that you go wild for it. Get my clothes all wet, darling. Make me smell like you."

Brian obeys immediately, rolling his hips up into Stewie. It's a little uncomfortable with Stewie's pajamas in the way, but Stewie soothes the chafing with the filthy sweet nothings that he speaks into Brian's chest.

"You'll be so fun to tease," he tells Brian. "I think it'd be fun to sit on your lap in front of the rest of the family, whispering in your ear, you unable to come without everybody knowing but unable to stop yourself from leaking, anyway. You'd have to wait until everyone else left the room before I'd touch you with my hands - or maybe you'd be so desperate for it that you'd come all over me right then and there." He sucks in a shuddering little breath. "Like you're going to do for me right now. Come on me, Brian."

Brian comes for the second time that night, whimpering in a disorientingly canine way.

"Good boy," Stewie praises him. "Now, do I need to break out the peanut butter or will you suck me off without it? I'm fit to burst, watching you come for me twice in one night."

Brian, for the first time that night, hesitates.

"I didn't mean to spook you," Stewie says, catching on immediately. "I know you're new to this whole gay sex thing. I can take care of myself. Can I at least jack off onto your chest, though?"

"Sure," Brian acquiesces, voice gravel-rough now. "I...I want to smell like you, too."

Stewie's hips jerk sharply up into Brian's sensitive groin, his eyes closed, his misleadingly cherubic face screwed up in pained pleasure. "Never mind," he says after a few moments. "That did it for me."

It's probably the multiple orgasms making him soft, but Brian doesn't want to leave this room, not tonight. The panic attack can wait until the light of tomorrow. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" he asks quietly.

"I'd love nothing more," Stewie says.


End file.
